


I'm On Fire

by Otonymous



Category: MLQC: Fandom, love and producer, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Spoilers, Vaginal Sex, break-ins, break-ups, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: How does one mend a broken heart when it is still held in someone else’s hands?  Lucien is about to find out.
Relationships: Player Character/Xǔ Mò | Lucien
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	I'm On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> This fic was written based on the following prompt: "How sweet, sacrificing yourself for her. When did you get a heart?"
> 
> This story contains spoilers for chapter 13 and slight spoilers for Lucien’s Midnight Date. Please note the potential trigger warnings in the tags above and happy reading!
> 
> Nb) Lyrics taken from Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m On Fire” are marked with an asterisk (song written by Bruce Springsteen. © Downtown Music Publishing)

One. Two. Three and four.

_Sacrificing yourself for her._

The pills roll about his palm, a blur of grey even in his good eye before he inhales deep, bringing them to his open mouth.

_How sweet._

Sugar dissolving thin on his tongue, the professor doesn’t bother chasing the bitter aftertaste with water, attention focused on the clock on the wall as the medicine slid sluggish down his throat, the smooth arc of the second hand sweeping away moments they would never get back:

The spread of her smile, brilliant sunshine even on the bleakest of days.

Beautiful eyes, wide and honest, telling tales of hearts worn on sleeves and secrets she could never hide. Not from him, at least.

Her voice; projecting with confidence, whispering in his ear. Half sung choruses suspended in misty air when notes dissolve into laughter to find unexpected company in the shower.

Everything about her magnetic and so addictive, lost to him in the moment her innocence was destroyed by his very hand, breaking under the weight of cruel words coated with indifference — a necessary evil when she stumbled upon a scheme he had long ago abandoned but still had to keep up the pretence of maintaining.

And now, all he could do was wait.

Wait for sight to return to his eye, mutilated beneath padded gauze. Wait for the pain in his chest to subside with each laboured breath he struggles to keep even. Wait for the day when hurt and anger eventually turn to indifference, when he, too, becomes a memory so faded she wouldn’t even remember his name:

Lucien. Man of light. 

Ares. God of war.

Two sides of the same coin, the merciless being intent on ushering a dying world into a bright new age, regardless of the cost. Or so, he thought.

_And just when did you get a heart?_

The streetlamp beyond the window flickers on, fluorescence filtering through curtains to bounce off the scalpel on the ground by his side. And as the light catches the professor’s eye, the reflection on smooth steel smiles in derision to know that was the wrong question entirely.

For Lucien had no heart to call his own. It lived only in the rhythm of her body, the beats resounding in her chest; swelling to feed on her happiness, contracting in the bitterness of her tears…because theirs was one and the same, and it existed solely for _her:_

The colour in his life. His unexpected miracle. The one thing Lucien would never sacrifice even at the cost of the world.

Even if it cost him his life — which had long been in her possession, whether she knew it or not.

So when that cool beam sharpened to pierce through his field of vision, searing as tissue tore and light faded to black, Lucien didn’t even flinch.

No, the violence to his body constituted nothing but the most minor of annoyances. That such a vulgar display of punishment was used to make him an example of what happens when one defies the organization, Ares found laughable. Mere child’s play compared to the vicious alternative that must never, _ever,_ come to pass:

Losing her.

_Gasp._

Hand flying to his chest, the pads of his fingers dig into flesh through a sweat-soaked shirt. Fighting to maintain composure, the professor pushes her from his mind, trying to force his heart to beat in a concerted rhythm through sheer will alone. Grey eye trained once again on the clock, Lucien waits for the drugs to take effect. Soon, should be soon.

Anytime now…Lucien knew she would be returning.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

Like a ghost conjured up by his thoughts, the sound of her heels echo outside his door as she makes her way up the stairwell, and Lucien can already see her in his mind: purse slung over one shoulder and takeout dinner in hand. The key to her apartment already held between the thumb and index of the other, as was her habit. Fatigued after a long day at work, which somehow had the effect of making her even more irresistible.

_Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump._

Her feet stop not at her unit, but one over — the shadows of her heels parsing the strip of light streaming into Lucien’s darkened apartment from the hallway. And when the door shifts ever so slightly inwards to catch on the lock, he knows her palm is pressed against it, as if in supplication to reveal the secrets of its occupant; where he was and what he was doing.

To help her understand why her heart still yearned for someone she should’ve held nothing but contempt for.

“I guess I really am a fool for you, Lucien.”

_Ba-bump, ba-bump, BA-BUMP, BA-BUMP._

Her voice is quiet in that abandoned hallway, but she might as well have whispered in his ear. Cold sweat dripping down the professor’s face - white as a sheet - he covers his mouth with a trembling hand, struggling to contain the sound of his pants in an attempt to maintain the façade, for she must never know:

That her neighbour had never left, content to spend hours upon hours in the dark silence of his apartment just to keep watch by her side.

That each of her sobs muffled beneath a blanket pulled over her head still carried through thin walls to hurt him more than any weapon.

That his nights were as sleepless as hers, haunted by dreams in which he sees her heart break in the tears streaming down that exquisite face - the pen held to her neck stabbing into his chest even as it entered her flesh, their blood mixing to flow in the same crimson stream.

No one must ever know.

That for the first time in his life, Ares knew what it was to fear. Because for the very first time, there was someone he could not afford to lose.

* * *

_“Hey little girl, is your daddy home?”*_

Music turned up loud as she was wont to do, it was little wonder that she didn’t catch the slightest hint of the commotion in her living room. Not that it had taken long for Ares to dispatch the Black Swan minions who had been stalking their apartment building for the past week, patiently waiting for the chance to attack.

Not as patient as Ares was, evidently, judging by the looks in their eyes - shock melting into absolute fear to see the man already waiting for them in the girl’s home. 

The man known for his ruthlessness even amongst the top brass of the organization.

And before words could be exchanged, bright light emanated from the palm of his large hand, outstretched in imposing fashion. When the blinding radiation finally dissipated, the men in black were gone - all ten disappearing into thin air to leave only the professor…

_“Did he go away and leave you all alone?”*_

…and the girl still singing in the shower.

Self-aware though he was, Ares struggled at that moment to name the feeling churning in his gut. Anger, perhaps, that she had left herself so vulnerable to attack - her music easily masking every bit of noise to leave her oblivious in dangerous times.

Or maybe it was frustration to know that she was just beyond that door; drops of water coalescing into rivulets that ran down the length of her naked body, caressing her skin in ways he never could again.

Anger turned inwards in an act of self-flagellation; to be so close yet so far.

_“I got a bad desire”*_

Even as he did it — watching his body move without volition as one observes a scene unfolding in a movie — Lucien knew it was a step in the wrong direction, running counter to all his efforts thus far. And yet, he was powerless to resist; her voice a siren’s song, mesmerizing in its pull until the knob was turning in his grasp, steam billowing through an open doorway to draw him further in.

And when he sees her, face lifted towards running water that cascaded down the curves of her back, flesh and bone and so _real_ after nights spent chasing her in dreams, he forgets:

Forgets that he is Ares.

Forgets that he is Lucien.

Forgets that he is anything but a man whose sole desire was to love the woman before him.

_“Oh oh oh, I’m on fire.”*_

And suddenly, he is there again in happier times, slipping into the shower behind her unnoticed until his muscular arms are wrapping around her waist to pull her close. Her skin, slippery with soap, sliding so nicely on his hard chest even as the flesh of her buttocks fit firm against his pelvis.

_“You surprised me,”_ she would say, head lolling back against his collarbone to stare into those grey eyes, lips drawn into a smile that begged to be kissed. And he would oblige, bending to taste that open mouth that moaned into his own, his gentle hands already at her breasts — thumb and forefinger teasing at sensitive tips to see if they could harden any further under his touch.

_Gasp._

Her voice cuts through his reverie like a sword through smoke; hand to her mouth and eyes wide to see him through fogged up glass.

“Your eye, Luci—”

The words die in her throat as she chokes on the name. And Lucien’s chest tightens to know that even at a time like this, she could still find it within herself to care about a man like him.

One step forward, then another to close the distance, the professor seeking the heat of her body beneath hot water until his own is drenched - black hair slick against his face and dress shirt clinging uncomfortably to skin.

But he stops short of touching her, standing so close he is mesmerized by the darkness of her pupils blown wide, reading every emotion playing across a face he could never forget: shock, confusion, apprehension, anger…and love.

“You can’t be a fool for the rest of your life,” his deep voice echoes in the space between them, feeling as far removed as the words it kills him to say:

“Forget me.”

One last look. Lucien told himself he would be content with that till the end of his days. But then her hand is on his arm, delicate fingers gripping till her knuckles blanch to hold him in place just as he turns to leave.

“HOW?! Just how am I supposed to forget you? Maybe it’s easy for you, but I’m not cut from the same cloth! I can’t do it no matter how hard I try, no matter how much it kills me to remember—”

Her voice breaks off in violent sobs that leave her body trembling, crumpled against the tiled wall as tears fall from red-rimmed eyes. And before the mind can even process what the heart has already decided, the girl is gathered into Lucien’s arms on instinct, his lips falling upon hers to leave nothing but the sound of their song heard through running water:

_“At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet  
And a freight train running through the middle of my head  
Only you can cool my desire  
Oh oh oh, I’m on fire”*_

No gentle affection. No sweet consideration. The kiss is messy - desperation, deep and dark, manifesting in the gnash of teeth and bruising lips, love and hate merging in tongues seeking answers even as they sought each other in frenzied embrace:

_Who are you really?_

_Why did you do this?_

They kiss like it’s their last, the cruel fate of their lives as enemies falling away as they give chase to sensation - holding on to the here and now, the only thing she could place her trust in.

That he, her Lucien… _always Lucien,_ had returned. That the strong arms slipping out of suspenders and sliding from the sleeves of that dress shirt would hold her once again like they did in what seemed a lifetime ago. That the hands unbuttoning those pants to free himself, already painfully hard, held no malice in gentle fingers.

“Did you ever love me?” She asks, wide eyes searching as he lines himself up between her legs, the glimmer of hope faint but still so present. The moment renders him mute, for her face — vibrant colour glowing in his world of dusky greys — robs him of his faculty for speech.

So he slips his tongue into her mouth as he slides in to the hilt — slow…slow, to feel the resistance of her flesh before it yields to the swell of his tip, savouring the squeeze of warm, wet walls accepting every inch of his thick cock, the girl flooding him from within as she exalts in her welcome intruder.

“Lucien…Lucien…” His name is a prayer on her lips, warding off the fear that she would wake any minute now to find that this had all been nothing but a feverish dream.

His jaw tightens to feel her nails raking down his back, digging deeper into skin with every exploratory nudge of his cock at the limits of her body; the precarious balance between pleasure and pain exquisite and necessary as he fills the emptiness left behind by his departure with each purposeful stroke:

Mending the rift in the torn up fragments of their lives as they merge into one, each finding perfect completion in the other.

And in the thunderous beat of her heart - their bodies convulsing on the wave of the same climax - Lucien’s is brought to life once more. Theirs one and the same; now, as before, and forevermore - beating together.

* * *

The professor forgot how much he missed it, the sweetness of simple domesticity: setting her exhausted body in his lap as he towelled her dry, buttoning up her flannel pyjamas to lay her down to blissful sleep. Honey lemon tea within reach on her bedside table to soothe a throat sore from moaning.

And beside it, a paper crane, Lucien’s cursive hidden beneath folded wings that read:

_“I love you more than you can even fathom. Wait for me.”_


End file.
